


Don't Go

by stormie92



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Hate, John Watson - Freeform, Love, Murder, Mycroft Holmes - Freeform, Redrum, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Wedding, dead, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormie92/pseuds/stormie92
Summary: A Group of Terrorists, or God knows who, goes after you and Mycroft. Does anyone survive? Does the case get solved? What is happening?





	1. Chapter 1

He coughed and blood splattered from his mouth onto his light blue dress shirt. His beautiful blue eyes that use to sparkle now started to die like the stars in the night sky. They widened as they reached out for you “Y/N” was all he spat out before his body hit the ground. You gasped as the man who held you back let you go and shoved you to where your boyfriend lay.   
“No, no, no” you cried out as your eyes began to hurt from holding back your tears “You cannot do this. Not now . . . not ever” your voice cracked as your heart and soul began to shatter like glass. Behind you, the doors slammed as the masked man who made you watch ran away to tell his boss that it was all done. You were now alone trying to desperately help the love of your life stay alive. Putting pressure onto his wounds, you screamed as loud as you could for help. Part of you wanted to run and find help, but you knew deep down that if you did that he would bleed out and die alone. That was something you did not want to risk . . . no one deserves to die alone. Not even the Iceman. 

A lump formed in your throat as you felt his breathing slow down with each breathe he took. “No” you whimpered as you checked his pulse “God, NO . . . Do not do this. Not him . . . not now . . . please. Help! Someone help!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Your heart sank as you felt his pulse stop and you immediately tried giving him mouth to mouth . . . the situation was quite despairing. Ten minutes went by and no matter how hard you tried, you could not get his heart to beat again. You held him in your arms, tears falling down on his face, as you rocked back and forth yelling. “Come back to me, come back! Please, please . . . don’t leave me here! Don’t do this . . . I need you . . . Can you . . . hear me? Please!”

The doors swung open and the blinding light of the sun shone right into your eyes. Once the doors closed it took you a minute to see who was had opened it. A little piece of you had hoped it was the man who killed Mycroft and that he came back to finish you off, to make it so you can be with your love forever. However, it was not him, but Sherlock and John. John ran over, taking an assessment of the situation and trying to get you to talk.   
“How long has it been since his heart stopped?” he asked. Sherlock stood, in all his stoic glory, just staring at the three of you. John questioning and trying to help, you with your red face from crying, and his brother, dead in your arms with a pool of dark crimson red blood surrounding him.   
“Sherlock, Sherlock? Are you here with us?” John repeated a few times while snapping his fingers. Sherlock’s eyes were empty as he finally focused in on John and you. “Sherlock, mate, I am so very sorry . . . He, Mycroft, is dead . . . Y/N needs us now.” John reached out to give Sherlock a soft pat but Sherlock turned around and walked out the door like nothing ever happened. John got his phone out and dialed for Lestrade “Yes . . . yes, that is what happened. No, no . . . Greg, no. She has been through enough for one day. Let me take her home and maybe, just maybe, once she is feeling a little better you can question her. Why? Because, Greg, she has feelings. She just lost her boyfriend and the sick man made her watch as he died. It is final. I will talk with you later, goodbye” he hung up and touched your shoulder. 

You were staring at Mycroft’s lifeless body wondering what you could have done, if anything, to have saved him. You begged the man to take you instead . . . to kill you . . . but he laughed and spat in your face instead.   
“This one right here, he got a good price on his head, yes he does” the man said as he started torturing Mycroft. You screamed and screamed and screamed like hell . . . but to no avail. Mycroft called out for you to stop “Don’t . . . Say . . . another word. Let me be the one. I cannot watch . . . you die for me” he said in-between blows.   
“Quite now, ‘luv” the man growled as he took a hunters knife out from its sheath. He started to trace around Mycroft’s facial features and throat, all while staring at you. “What ya’ think, ‘luv? Shall I mark his pretty boy face? Would ya’ still love him? Or . . . shall I slide this cold metal against his artery right here?” The man looked at Mycroft and then you as he made a tiny cut on Mycroft’s neck. “Naw, boss might not like that. Too fast a death, he’d say” and he removed the knife from Mycroft’s neck before making a slash across his left eye and down his cheek. 

Mycroft whimpered softly in pain but never once cried or screamed. He had told you once, after telling you about his job, that if anything bad were to happen he would never give the villain the pleasure of seeing him cry. Now that it was actually happening, you knew that he did not want you to be any more afraid then you already were. That, if he was strong, maybe some of his strength would transfer over to you. God . . . how you wished that would have been true. Maybe with some extra strength you could have tackled the man . . . or something . . . anything other than just being on your knees and watching your lover die. 

“Aww, look at that, Mista Holmes . . . she is crying” he mocked “how sad . . . do ya’ even love her?” He twirled the knife as Mycroft nodded ‘yes’ to his question. “How lovely” he chuckled as he took the knife and rammed it into Mycroft’s back “She woulda done the same, except she would have aimed for the heart” he twisted the knife as slowly as he could before he yanked it out. “Oh, ‘for I forget, my boss would like to say thank ya’ for the information you squealed out like a pig when we threatened that lil’ bitch over there” he laughed as he jabbed Mycroft in the ribs with the knife, once again, twisting the knife. You winced and closed your eyes as you heard the sound of flesh being ripped apart. “Ah, ah, ah, eyes open, bitch” the man walked over and slapped you across the face. Mycroft, although in horrific pain, moved from where he knelt and tried to tackle the man away from you. The man stumbled backwards, regained his composure and then hit Mycroft over the head with the handle of the knife. “Too late to be a hero, Holmes” he kicked Mycroft in the stomach and then stepped on his left hand “The great Mycroft . . . the government man . . . it must feel bloody awful to know there isn’t a thing you can do” a buzz came from his pocket and he removed a cell phone. Looking at it, he sighed, and slipped it back into his pocket. “Looks like the fun is over for now” he bent down and grabbed Mycroft by the hair on his head and yanked him up so that he would be on his knees. Blood seeped through his clothes and onto the ground as the man studied Mycroft’s face, a grin crossed his face as he stared into Mycroft’s eyes and said “I got it . . .” as he plunged the knife into Mycroft’s chest, twisted it, yanked it back out and then dug it back in deeper. Mycroft tightly closed his eyes as blood leaked a little from his mouth. The man, laughing manically, kicked Mycroft to the ground and walked over to you where he wiped the bloody knife onto your white shirt. He shoved you forward, leaving the building and letting you watch Mycroft die.


	2. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Funeral for a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I hope you can hear me,   
>  I remember it clearly,  
>  The day you slipped away,  
>  I found it won’t be the same”
> 
> Avril Lavigne "Slipped Away"

“Y/N” John whispered as you snapped back to the here and now “Y/N, come now . . . He would not want you to see this” he grabbed your hand and took you out of the building. An ambulance pulled up, along with Lestrade and his workers.   
“Jesus” Lestrade said as John pushed you and him through.  
“Not now, Greg” he growled as John protected you from the onslaught of people. John hailed a cab, letting you in first and having the driver take you both to Baker Street. John scooted close to you and wrapped an arm around your neck “Sherlock and I are here for you . . . Y/N, I am sorry, but know this . . . Sherlock WILL find who did this.” You nodded your head while you close your eyes and tried to silence the voices within your mind. 

You arrive at Baker Street and John escorts you into the flat. “Sit down” he motions to his chair as he walks into the kitchen to make tea. Noise comes from within another room, you ignore it, but John shoves the door open to see Sherlock. He lets out a muffled gasp as he realizes the room is trashed and he walks in, closing the door. You sit there, half out of your mind and half listening to John talk to Sherlock. “She needs us, Sherlock . . .”  
“Mmm” Sherlock mumbled while he paced about the room.   
“Sherlock . . .” John shook his head softly “I am sorry . . . Listen, I will be out there with Y/N” he turned around and left the door open while he took a seat across from you. “Did you recognize the man?”  
“No” you whispered “he had a mask on, some weird looking clown thing. Black and white, with specks of red. He also sounded quite dumb . . . could have been an act” you looked at John.  
“Any distinguishing marks or anything? If you can remember . . .”  
You closed your eyes and tried to remember everything except Mycroft. “Errr . . . a tattoo. On his knuckle . . . it was a black centipede with red eyes” you recalled the tattoo because it creeped you out. Sherlock, overhearing the discussion, walked out in the room and stared off into space.   
“Y/N, what did he say?”  
“Said that his boss wanted to thank Mycroft for giving some information . . . in return, the men didn’t kill me” you started to weep “This is my fault, isn’t it? I should have ran . . . should have never got involved with him and maybe Myc would still be alive.”  
“Don’t” John said softly “Don’t blame yourself, please. He loved you and you loved him, Mycroft would have done anything to keep you safe and it sounds like he did.”  
“John is right” Sherlock finally spoke.   
“Where are you going?” John questioned watching Sherlock put on his coat and scarf.  
“You two stay here. I am going to Mycroft’s place . . . I need to look around the place” he replied back while he rushed out of the flat. John turned his eyes towards you “See? Already on it.”  
“I pity the person who did this . . . Sherlock will go ape for sure” you sniffled as you tried to hold back the rest of your tears. John, seeing that you were holding back tears, shook his head.  
“Cry, it is good for the soul” he stood up and hugged you “Trust me, I know . . . when Sherlock was, er, well, you know . . . It was hard. Don’t hold back anything” he added. You closed your eyes, sunk back into the chair and started to cry. How will you survive? 

Days went by and there was a funeral. St. Woolos buried another Holmes, but this time was different, because this Holmes had not faked his death. Sherlock tried to find evidence he did, that this was all an act, but even the greatest detective of all time found nothing. If it had not been for John, Sherlock would have gone back into using drugs. However, this time, he had stayed cleaned even though his demons wanted to drag him down. The funeral was dreary, depressing and lonely. You tried to stay strong for the first part of the funeral but by the middle and end you were in tears. John stood next to you, holding you and trying to console you. Sherlock stood as alone, observing. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes held each other. You rested your head on John’s shoulder and wept silently to yourself. Alas, you could not shake the feeling that you were being watched. 

“I hope you can hear me,   
I remember it clearly,  
The day you slipped away,  
I found it won’t be the same”

John, Sherlock, and his parents all walked home with you home. Or, at least the place you last called home. You were still living at Mycroft’s place but whenever you were there alone, you felt very depressed. Everyone stayed with you for a few hours but you soon grew tired of the noise and asked them to go for now.   
“We understand, dear” Mrs. Holmes said as she hugged you “Do not hesitate to call us” and soon you were alone in the big house. You walked into the bedroom, fell onto the bed and held a pillow a close to your mouth as you screamed into it. “Why?” You cried out to the empty room. “Why could you have not let them kill me?! Or . . . anything else but this!” you soaked the pillow with your tears. Your one free hand traveled down to your lower abdomen and you rubbed it softly. “I never even got to tell you, Myc . . . I never got to tell you that you were going to be a daddy.” You close your eyes and lull yourself to sleep. You keep having such odd dreams, however, that someone is watching you like a hawk. But who? John and Sherlock were always near, and the only person who ever loved you was now buried under six feet deep.


	3. Baby, oh, Baby.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The baby finally comes!! You also receive a very strange package with no name or return address.

9 months go by and your world is still upside down. You are in pain, this time physically, as you grind your teeth through labor. No one is in the room with you except the doctor and the two nurses. "Almost there!" The doctor encourages you "oh, here we go!" You give a final push and hear tiny cries of your baby. "Say hello to your baby boy, y/n" the nurse hands you your baby. For once, in the past nine months, you cry tears of happiness instead of those of heartbreak. You look down at the precious baby and smile; he looks so much like his daddy. Tiny, shining blue eyes blink at you as you touched his soft auburn hair. “I am going to call you Arthur Mycroft Holmes” you whisper softly as you press your lips against his forehead “and you will know all about your astonishing daddy”.

A few days after giving birth you are released and get to go home. Your brain and hormones have no idea what to do or even how to react properly. You are depressed, happy, relieved, excited and very anxious as you walk in doors. You take Arthur out of his car seat carrier and show him around the house, laughing as you explain the rooms and rules too him. Finally you make it to his bedroom “And this, little man? Is your room!! Uncle Sherlock and Uncle John both helped in making it so spectacular.” The room was painted light yellow, little frogs and miscellaneous creatures cover the walls, the crib is made of some fancy mahogany that Sherlock picked out, and then above the crib is a mobile made of tiny umbrellas. A tear forms in your eye but you close your eyes until it goes away. 

You put Arthur down to sleep and smile at how peaceful he looks. “So much like daddy” you think as you leave the room and make your way into the kitchen. Opening the fridge door you grab a bottled water and sit down at the table. Your stomach hurts, your head hurts, and your heart throbs with agony. This should be a happy moment . . . yet you are suffering because you never thought in a million years that you would be doing all of this alone. You rest your head on the table for just a few seconds until you hear Arthur crying. “He needs you more. . . Do this for him” you put yourself together and go to fetch him. He is wiggling all over in his crib when you enter the room, a smile crosses your face as you recognize the look that is plastered across his, it is the same look Mycroft use to get when he was put in an unpleasant situation with Sherlock. “Goodness, little one, you are grumpy” you picked him up and started to rock him “Shhh, it is okay. Mummy is right here. I am not leaving you” you kiss his head and paced around the room until the infant was quite in your arms. 

It is a little after midnight, you are feeling lonely as you sit against the headboard and think about everything that has happened. You reach in the bedside cabinet, pull out a bottle of pills and just stare at the label. “Two a day . . . as needed . . . will make you drowsy” you sighed and tossed the bottle back into the cabinet drawer. Ever since you were a teenager you suffered from depression and the bad thoughts that often came along with the depression. You never took pills because you were afraid that they would make you “not yourself” or that if you started to take them, you would purposefully slip up and take the whole bottle. “Shake it off” you spoke to the empty room as you tried to shove the black cloud away “Arthur needs you . . . Mycroft would be extremely disappointed in you if you did anything stupid.” Psht, yeah . . . did well for him? He is the one who died, physically. You were the one dying now, mentally. You won’t move on from it . . . The thoughts inside your head spoke the truth, for as long as you shall live, you would remain single. Mycroft was the only true love for you, he had stolen your heart and on the day he died, he took it with him to the grave. 

The doorbell rings, startling both you and Arthur. He begins to cry as you move off the bed and consider joining him in the cryfest. First, you give him a bottle and then you walk to the door. “Hello” you say as you open the door. No one is there. You look around outside but see no one. “Okay . . .” you start to close the door but a package catches your eyes. You pick it up, close the door and walk into the living room where you study the package. No return address, no name, nothing . . . how odd. At first you think about calling Sherlock to make sure the package is safe but change your mind because you were growing impatient by the minute. Carefully and slowly you open it (giving a sigh of relief when it doesn’t blow up in your face). You dump the box out onto the table and look through it. Baby clothes for a boy, a pacifier with an umbrella on it, and a few little knick knacks meant for a babies room. Confused, you rummaged through the stuff looking for a note. “Odd . . . very, very odd” you raised an eyebrow as you put the stuff back into the box. Arthur starts to cry, again, and his cries seem to echo through the house. Picking up the box, you walk into his room and set it down on the desk so you can pick him. “Well, baby, you already have a secret admirer. I think it may be Uncle Sherlock but who knows?” You sit in the rocking chair so you could feed him and you sing a soft little lullaby to help soothe him.  
“If they knew all about you,  
They'd end up loving you too.  
All those same people who scold you,  
What they'd give just for the right to hold you.”


	4. Alhrik

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John come over with some news that shocks you and amazes you and also upsets you. What could it possibly be?

Two years later

Sherlock pounds on the door with a yelling John standing right behind him. “Bloody hell” you heard John say as you unlocked the door and Sherlock pushed you aside to come in.  
“Okay . . . sure, come on it” you sarcastically said to him “Hey, John. Come in” you smiled at him as he waltzed in. You closed the door and yelled out “So, Sherlock, what is the problem?” Screams and tiny footsteps are heard coming towards you. Arthur’s sky blue eyes lit up as he sees Sherlock and then John “UNCLE, UNCLE, UNLCE” he screams as he tackles Sherlock’s legs. Sherlock, his eyes pleading for help, glances at you and John.  
“John, please, watch him. I need to tell Y/N what I found out” he picks up Arthur and passes him to John. Arthur makes an angry, pouting face at Sherlock but soon goes back to laughing as John plays with him. Sherlock grabs you by the wrist and takes you into the kitchen. “Sherlock, you are scaring me” you finally say.  
“He is alive . . . Mycroft is alive” he blurts out. You stare at Sherlock in disbelief. “No, I know what that look means and I am not lying. After that package you got I did some research, found some traces of fingerprints and even the type of material the box was made out of. Along with certain smells that the clothes contained” he shook his head. “Also, who else would send it? With no address? No note? Everyone you have is here, Y/N, so who else?”  
You felt yourself getting dizzy so you pulled out a chair and sat down. “Why the HELL would he do it? Hmmm, genius? And how? I saw him getting stabbed, I saw him bleed out, and I felt him take his last damn breath.” Anger swept over you as you rubbed your head.  
“I broke into his private files at his office. I am very ashamed to admit that it never crossed my mind two years ago to even do such a thing . . . however; I found out that there was a man Alhrik Azrael. He worked for the black market, dealing in bio-weapons and God knows what else. Well, Mycroft knew, actually. Mycroft and his team were working with Alhrik but things went down south fast when Mycroft denied access to nuclear weapon codes and a few other things, which were all coded to the point I could not break them yet . . . Are you still with me, Y/N?” he asked. You nodded your head as he kept talking “Anyway, like I said . . . Broken deals and so on, Alhrik, got mad and threatened the Queen, the Government, you, John and myself if Mycroft didn’t pay a price. The price was his life . . . So, the man that you saw killing Mycroft was actually an associate of his, goes by the name Fleszar, which funny enough means Butcher. Anyway, Fleszar has a centipede tattoo with red eyes to represent his less than honorable business, which is that he works in the black market too and runs a site on the shady dark web. Mycroft paid him to pretend to kill him, help him disappear and then tell Alhrik it was done. Alhrik, of course, believed him because Fleszar is known to actually get the job done correctly. Which means my brother must have paid him very handsomely. Remember those nights you said it felt like someone or something was watching you? Cameras, I bet” he moved his index finger all over the room “Probably watching us right now. Questions so far?”  
“How did he fake it? The blood? The . . . everything” you stuttered. “Easy” he said “The knife was designed to fake murders, when pressed against the human body it would retract inside the handle. As for the blood? Blood packets, more than likely, like the actors use. And his heartbeat? I am going to assume tetrodotoxin but it could have been something top secret that the government has been working on. I saw quite a few files that spoke of some new drug that could slow down the pulse and heart. Now, you are probably incredibly upset and angry, and asking why did he let you watch? To make the people watching you for the first few weeks believe that he was actually gone. If you and I even showed emotion just once during those difficult times, they would have assumed something was not right and possibly killed you or me. He hasn’t come out of hiding just yet because he is waiting for the best opportunity. You know my brother, Y/N, he likes being dramatic.” Sherlock studied your face as he placed a hand on your shoulder “He will be here soon . . . I assure you” and he walked back out to where John and Arthur were playing. Staying completely still you rubbed the bridge of your nose and cussed under your breath. If Sherlock Holmes ended up being right (like he normally always was) you were going to slug Mycroft when he showed his smug face around you. Inhaling deeply, you stood up and walked into the living room smiling at the three boys who were all on the floor. John and Arthur were playing with his toy cars, Sherlock was just watching but you noticed a tiny sparkle in his eyes when he watched John laughing and playing with the litter Holmes. 

Two weeks went by and the news Sherlock gave you never once left your mind. You were home alone when a text came through from a mysterious number: “Go to park bench by tree” and it was signed SIGER. You texted Sherlock who replied that he too received the same text and he was just a few minutes away from being outside your door. You hurried and got dress, then went outside where you waited for Sherlock. “Where is Arthur?” he asked.  
“Your parents wanted some time alone with him” you said as you jumped down the stairs and rushed to walk side by side with him. It took you ten minutes to reach your destination and the bench was empty. “Let’s sit” Sherlock grabbed you by the hand and lead you to the bench.  
“Who do you think it could—“you lost your voice when a silhouette figure appeared. A familiar voice spoke “I believe that I owe you both an arduous apology.” Both you and Sherlock stood up so fast that you almost fell over, if it were not for Sherlock, you would have. Your hands clenched up into a ball and you glared at Mycroft who gave a slight smile.  
“You SON OF A BITCH” you screamed as you jumped forward and slapped him across the face. “Two years, you were dead . . . you died in front of me. And you . . . I was pregnant, asshole! We have a-“  
“A beautiful baby boy named Arthur” he smiled as he tried to hug you.  
“No, no . . . don’t touch me” you started to cry. Sherlock stepped forward and spoke “Why did you not let us know sooner?”  
“Good to see you, brother mine. And because, I could not risk any harm coming to you any of you.”  
“You did plenty harm, Mycroft” you whimpered as you finally wrapped your arms around him. He squeezed you as he spoke very softly “I know, my darling dear, but this was the best way . . .” He kissed the top of your head “I never wanted this . . . but I was never gone. I was always there for you . . . both of you” he glanced at Sherlock “I am so glad you remained strong, brother”. Sherlock smirked and looked down at the ground. “And you, my love . . . It will take me many, many years to make this up to you, but I intend on it. First, I want to marry you.” You buried your face into his chest and nodded. “And I want to meet my son” he finished as he rubbed your back in tiny circles.  
“Yes, and yes . . . He is so much like you. You probably already knew that though, didn’t you?”  
“I did. The Holmes genes are strong in us” he chuckled.  
“What of Alhrik?” Sherlock questioned.  
“He is alive but he will cause no more trouble. After my death, he started to get a little cocky. I sent a secret team after him and just a few months ago they finally caught him. That is why I am here now. I want you both to forgive me. I know that I do not say it much but I love you both very dearly. I could have not lived with myself if I had to watch either of you die in my place.”  
“We will forgive you . . . in time” you smiled.


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone from the past finally comes home.

“Arthur . . . “ Mycroft says as he gets down to the boys level. Arthur’s blue eyes grew wide. “Daddy!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. A smile crosses his face as he races up to Mycroft and wraps his arms around Myc’s neck. Mycroft hold Arthur and picks him up “How does he know my name?” You smile and point to a photograph.  
“I spoke often of daddy, the great Holmes”. Mycroft tightens his hold on the little boy, studies his face and whispers “You, my son, are incredibly beautiful, and I have always loved you”. Mycroft’s blue eyes sparkled with tears in them.  
“Hey, baby boy, it is time for some sleep. Okay? Daddy and I need to talk.” Arthur cried as you took him from his daddy’s arms and walked him up to his room. Mycroft stood alone in the living room and felt a pang of sadness.   
You walked back downstairs and wrapped your arms around Mycroft. He, in return, wrapped his arms around your waist. Rocking back and forth you finally whispered “Two years you were gone . . . two years you were dead . . . do you know what I went through?” You rested your head against his chest, inhaling his scent and listening to his heart beat.   
“I know, darling . . . I watched from afar and I saw how much damage my absence caused you. I saw your heart break and I watched as my own heart started to break too. I wanted nothing more in this world than for me to come here and hold you . . . to tell you I love you, that I was sorry and that I would be here for the two of you. I just could not risk it . . .”   
“I know. He threatened Sherlock, John, Mary and myself . . . I get why you had to do it. I just wish-“you go quite.  
“Wish what?”  
“That sometimes you had a normal job. A safe job . . . I get that you are happy with what you are doing and I would NEVER tell you to quit your job. I am just saying . . . I don’t want to lose you at all. Not again. Not now. And not with Arthur knowing his daddy is here for him.” You grip him tighter as your cry a little into his shirt. His hands slide down your back and he kisses you.  
“I am only doing office work from now on. Plus, I do not want to risk anything anymore. Watching you break like a precious sculpture that had been pushed hurt me more than I ever thought it would.”  
“I love you” you whisper.  
“I love you too.”  
The two of you went to sleep, you curled up against him and his arms locked themselves around you. (You were so afraid that when you woke up that he would be gone again, that was his way of telling you he was not going anywhere). Morning came and the two of you were still cuddled close together. “Morning, my love” his voice broke the silence.   
“Morning” you yawned while turning over to look at him.  
“I thought of a crazy idea . . . Are you ready?”  
“Mhmmm, tell me.”  
“We should get married . . . today at the court house!”  
“That is not very Mycroftian” you giggle.  
“I mean it. And then, later on in the year, we can have an actual big wedding.”  
“I- Yes! I cannot go another day without being your wife forever.” Later that day the two of you, along with John and Mary, went to the courthouse to get married. Sherlock did not tag along because he told the lot of you “it will be boring and I don’t do boring”. John and   
Mycroft tried to change his mind, but alas, they failed.   
The judge explained how courthouse marriages worked, let the two of you sign the papers and then pronounced the two of you married. “You may kiss the bride” the judge said with a grin. John, Mary, you and Mycroft walked out of the courthouse feeling happy and blessed. “Thank you both for coming” you and Mycroft told the lovely Watson’s.  
“It was our pleasure. Sorry that Sherlock wouldn’t budge” Mary said.  
Mycroft shrugged “He will just have to come to the actual wedding when it happens. If not, his loss.”   
“I think if all of us get together before the actual wedding we can all force him to go. Or knock him unconscious and drag him there.” You smile as you reach for Mycroft’s hand and tangle your fingers with his.   
“We should let the couple be alone now, dear” Mary says as she takes Johns hand in hers. Mycroft and you smile as you turn around to walk towards the park.   
“I love you, Mrs. Holmes” he speaks once the two of you reach the park and sit on the bench.  
“I love you too, Mr. Holmes. Mr. Stuck with me forever” you laugh.


End file.
